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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350315">Sinner</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain'>ImaniJoain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Unlikely Singularities [39]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:43:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350315</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky knows how dating works. It is different in this new century, sometimes faster, sometimes much slower, but all in all he has it figured out. And he knows that a gentleman - a decent guy - doesn't throw a classy lady on the dining room table and measure her parts with his tongue. At least, not before a first date.</p><p>Or, at least, he thought he knew how dating works.</p><p>Also, some Steve and Darcy and the baby bump in danger of being revealed.</p><p>Takes place 9/1/17</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes /OC Evelyn Vivas, Jane Foster &amp; Darcy Lewis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Unlikely Singularities [39]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/727278</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dark Side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/firedanceswaterflows/gifts">firedanceswaterflows</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As requested, as promised, so it shall be.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <b>
    <span>September 1, 2017</span>
  </b>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>“Oooo,” Jane Foster made a sound caught between an angelic choir and something only dogs could hear. From the corner of his eye, Barnes watched her rub a plush blanket against her cheek. “It’s so soft! Do you think they have this for a California King?”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Darcy maneuvered her obviously pregnant belly around a crib display and reached for the price tag. “Jesus,” she gasped. “I fucking hope not. This thing must be made out of endangered butterfly wings or selkie pelts. I could buy a car for this.” </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>A sales clerk frowned deeply at the cursing, but then she caught Barnes’ scowl and quickly found a display on the opposite side of the store that needed straightening. The place was mostly empty. Barnes tried not to lose his composure at the discreet tags and signs. Darcy was right about the cost; it was no wonder the only other shoppers in the store were a middle aged gay couple who dressed like they could afford to drop thousands on shit a baby would grow out of in three months. Ourada had taken up a good tactical position near the back – ostensibly fascinated by what looked, from a distance, like an air horn – where she could keep an eye on the rear exit and the entire store. Barnes had another man positioned outside by the front entrance. The driver, double-parked and ignoring the murderous glances of everyone coveting his space, was just as well trained by Barton as the rest of the security detail. Still, Barnes felt uneasy, as if someone, somewhere, was loading a bullet with his name on it.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Or maybe it was just all the tiny, breakable, stainable, tearable crap all over the goddamn place.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“You’re better off with a sleep sack,” Evelyn pointed out without looking up from the display of mittens she was examining. Mittens. For newborns. <em>Who in the name o</em><em>f Franklin-fucking-Roosevelt</em><em> was taking their infant out in weather cold enough to need mittens?</em></span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Blankets are a suffocation hazard-” Evelyn continued. Jane dropped the soft material like it was covered in fire ants. “– although billions of babies survived fine with them. Regardless, my cousin Eddie swears by the sleep sacks. He says it makes night diaper changes much easier, and you can get the kind with built-in mittens.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Again with the mittens. <em>What the fuck?</em></span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Aren’t they...I don’t know, kind of hot? Like being in a sleeping bag inside? I mean, who wants that?” Darcy wrinkled her face with skepticism.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Foster rolled her eyes. “This coming from the woman banging a super soldier. Didn’t you say that Steve puts off as much heat as Thor?”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“How do you-” Evelyn began to ask Darcy, then clamped her mouth shut and shook her head, clearly deciding she didn’t want to know. Barnes was grateful. He didn’t want to know either. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jane was becoming excited about the science behind baby blankets. “Given the surface area to mass ratio of most newborns, and the higher metabolic rate necessitated by...”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes tuned her out, choosing instead to scan the store again and take a deep breath in Evelyn’s direction. She was within arm’s reach, and her chocolate and cinnamon scent blended with the powdery, clean smell of baby products. Soft lighting glinted off of the coil of whiskey-gold hair on the back of her head and pressed at a soft spot in his brain. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“<em>How comes he’s not cryin’, Buck?” A skinny little body with two frizzy brown braids leaned into him. Small fingers grabbed at his shirt and he obliged the unspoken request by picking up Rebecca and holding her tight. She was a little smelly with sweat and sour vomit and still too warm with the last of her fever. The opening of the bedroom door was quiet, even in the silent house, and Mrs. Rogers’ form made a pale shadow in the muggy summer light. He caught a glimpse of her, leaning over the cradle, and of a knot of Indian-head penny copper hair in bed. The woman it belonged to was whiter than her pillowcase and splotchy with tears. </em></span>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>The door closed again. A tall man, his hair falling limp around his cheeks from clenching his fingers in it, hurried past and into the kitchen with only a tight nod at the children.</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“’<em>Cause he’s not there, anymore, Becks. We don’t got a brother anymore.”</em></span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“James?” Evelyn had moved closer, close enough that the loose, silky material of her dress brushed against his jeans, but she did not touch him. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He met her eyes, trying to shake away the remembered weight of inescapable tragedy.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“They ‘bout ready, you think?” He nodded to the other women, who had launched into a debate that apparently necessitated diagrams drawn on the back of an envelope from Darcy’s bag to the exclusion of any additional browsing. He managed a tight smile for Evelyn, so that she wouldn’t think he was upset with her. “Lunch reservation is in ten, and I’m starving.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“You wouldn’t be,” she returned with a smirk and a brush of her hand against his bicep. Her fingers were warm on the metal even through the light jacket he wore to cover up his arm and his weapons. “If only you would eat more real food and less sawdust masquerading as granola.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Glass houses, Doc,” he murmured, letting his own hand hover at the base of her spine to usher her outside. He tipped his chin at Ourada and the female guard exited, conferring with the man by the door and then striding around the corner to the restaurant to do another advance sweep. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Evelyn snorted, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder but obediently allowing him to guide her to Darcy and Foster. He felt a clench in his gut at the thought that she might follow his direction in other ways. Barnes had to smother it so he could focus on his job. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Ladies,” she said, breaking into Foster’s impassioned lecture on thermodynamics. “How about naan and curry and then we head somewhere a bit more economical?”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Please and thank you,” Foster sighed. “I could eat a horse.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“At least it isn’t just me,” Darcy said, eyeing the sales clerk who was clearly glad to see them go. <em>If only the girl knew whose baby she’s turning her nose up at, </em>Barnes thought with dark humor. <em>And that Stark </em><em>issued </em><em>Darcy</em><em> a</em><em> credit card </em><em>on his personal account</em><em>.</em> “I was starting to feel very entitled-American-asshole around all this pretentious shit. I mean, organic, fair trade, ethically harvested, raw mulberry silk diapers? Are they even fucking kidding with this shit?”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Apparently not,” Evelyn opened the door for Foster and they walked out together while Barnes stuck close to Darcy. That itching was getting worse, making him paranoid – more paranoid than usual. As much as he wanted to drag Evelyn closer and make both her and Foster join Darcy in the car and head back to the Tower, his primary responsibility was to keep Darcy and the newest Rogers safe. And there was no way Darcy would cut her shopping trip short unless he had actionable intelligence. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Maybe not kidding,” Foster mused. “But they are definitely not taking shit seriously. It would soak straight through silk. Right?”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Evelyn laughed, Darcy giggled, and even Foster eventually broke into chuckles as they made their way to the end of the block. The car kept pace with them, screening the women from other drivers and pissing off every vehicle on the street. His rear guard fell in behind them, watching their backs. Barnes wished he had brought a backup team. Maybe another body on the street, too. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Maybe they should have stayed at the Tower. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>His tension eased somewhat after they were seated. Not at the table the hostess wanted them to take – apparently it was Ms. Potts’ usual – but at a half circle partially blocked from the rest of the diners by heavy curtains and a large planter filled with ferns. Ourada sent him a text that the restaurant checked out and she was stationed in the kitchen, supervising the preparation of their order. He still couldn’t stop himself from ignoring Darcy’s attempts to include him in the conversation in favor of obsessively monitoring each individual who came in – and anyone who approached their table. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>If he hadn’t been so vigilant, he might have missed the two men who entered right after the drinks were served. It was the couple from the baby store. Their body language was relaxed, casually intimate. One carried a gift bag in a pale shade of pink. It was not surprising that they would decide to eat at the same restaurant as Darcy. It <em>was</em> just around the corner from the baby store and one o’clock was a prime time for lunch.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span><em>Assess. Possible hostiles: two. Late thirties. One Caucasian. One Hispanic. Light builds. Agile, low power. Potential martial capability. Small arms likely.</em> The table next to where the hostess had tried to seat them caught his eye. <em>Amendment. Likely hostiles: six.</em> He swiftly judged the posture and hand placement of the foursome who had been served their entrees three minutes ago but had not yet begun eating. Barnes slipped his hand between Darcy’s mouth and the glass she had raised. The other women paused before they could sip their own drinks. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Excuse-” Darcy began, but his earpiece came to life.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Hostiles at rear entrance,” Ourada stated. Her voice was sharp and calm. “Three here. Possible inside man, coming your way. Five foot eight, blue shirt, white apron. I’ll hold off the assault until you reach the transport.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>A clatter sounded in the kitchen to his left, and several nearby diners looked up. The foursome put hands in jackets and bags. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“When I move,” he said quietly, “get below the table. Jane, if anyone comes near you, get Darcy out of here.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Okay,” Foster swallowed hard, but her face was determined. A dark flush spread up her neck. Darcy pulled out her taser, but kept it below the table. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Be careful,” Evelyn murmured. Her eyes were tight at the corners, her posture straight and stiff.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>From the drinks station, a man fitting Ourada’s description emerged, carrying a tray at an awkward angle to conceal the front of his body and one arm. Barnes was out of his seat and met him before he could close within ten feet. The smell of cordite and nervous sweat was stronger than Indian spices. Without waiting for the waiter to act, Barnes used his metal fist to jab. The crack of ribs and sternum under his knuckles was loud. The waiter fell backward, slamming against another table and clipping his head with a hollow crack. The tranquilizer gun hidden behind his tray fell to the ground with a clatter.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span><em>Diaphragm spasm. Likely multiple broken ribs. Possible punctured lung. Concussion. Enemy disarmed, distracted, disoriented, impaired.</em> Barnes lashed out with his boot as he passed, putting enough of the force of his leg muscles into the side of the knee joint to snap it. The waiter blacked out before he could scream. <em>Enemy neutralized. </em></span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>The foursome were closest, and two had risen from their chairs and were aiming weapons. In the less than ten seconds it had taken Barnes to leave his table and attack the waiter, other diners had barely had a chance to realize something was wrong. The sight of guns brought them quickly to the conclusion that they were done with their meals. Unfortunately, it made Barnes’ job more difficult. He had to shove a woman down under a table and use his metal arm to deflect a bullet that would have hit one of her companions. The pause in his charge gave the other two hostiles time to fan out. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>The closest man had a tranquilizer gun. Barnes seized a plate of butter chicken and flung it like a frisbee. It hit fragile wrist bones in a spray of rice and red sauce. Barnes was on the next man before the tranq gun hit the floor. A bullet grazed his metal shoulder. In the back of his mind he worried that someone might get hit from the ricochet. He did not have time to check for injured bystanders. His flesh hand hooked under the man’s jaw while he grabbed the gun in his metal hand. Steel barrel and resin casing gave way under vibranium fingers, crushing the second hostile’s trigger finger and sending bone splintering out of flesh. Still holding the gun, Barnes jerked his arm toward himself, then back. The weapon, including the shooter’s hand, hit the man’s own chest – followed by Barnes’ left fist. Momentum carried hostile number two into the man next to him, knocking number three off balance long enough for Barnes to lift his foot and slam the sole of his boot straight into his gut. Three crashed through another table and lay still on the floor.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Diners were screaming, running, creating more noise and chaos than was necessary. From the corner of his eye, Barnes noted that a table of two couples – off duty police by their movements – had cornered the couple from the baby store and were in the process of disarming them. A scream sounded behind him and for a moment someone must have opened the kitchen door because yelling and the crash of utensils and plates was loud. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>His jacket was already shredded at the shoulder seam, so Barnes stepped on the throat of the second hostile and held him down while he ripped off his sleeve and removed the remains of the coat to free up his range of movement. Hostile number four had a tranquilizer gun. He looked over the metal arm, met Barnes’ gaze, and dropped the weapon to pull a knife from the small of his back. It was a good blade. <em>Ceramic. </em><em>Five inches. Double edged.</em> Four gripped the hilt with his palm up, indicating training. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes could have pulled his Sig Sauer and ended things, but a gun in crowded quarters, no matter how skilled the shooter, was not the best option. If the bullet went through and through, the chances for civilian casualties were high. In one combination movement, Barnes crushed the larynx of the second hostile, tossed his ruined jacket in the face of the fourth man, and pulled his own knife. <em>Carbon steel. Seven inches. Clip point blade.</em> The hostile might have training, but Barnes was certain he had a few years on the man.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>The enemy crouched, barely losing any focus to swat away Barnes’ jacket with his left hand. He took the offensive quickly, doubtless intending to catch Barnes with his weight in his heels. The double-edged blade darted out with enough force to potentially stab and then slash across the abdomen. He was not counting on Barnes stepping forward into the weapon. Barnes grabbed the blade with his metal hand, accepting a blow to the jaw in exchange. It hurt. Barnes was familiar with pain, and how to ignore it. The impact radiated up into his skull, but it did not prevent him from bringing his own knife down in an arc across the top of one of his enemy’s thighs. Four hissed, springing back to regroup, but Barnes followed. He managed three shallow cuts in the man’s unprotected parry hand before he could gain his balance and attack again. Four was watching for the metal arm that time and flipped his grip to accommodate a slash; the back of his hand was toward his chest, the blade extended back along his forearm and held just below the sternum. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes watched him lunge and pivot, anticipating the turn which would bring the blade across his chest and far from his impervious left arm. Rather than attempt to lean out of range, Barnes braced his left boot on an overturned chair and leaped. His right boot swung out, connecting with the knife and causing spiral fractures in the hand of his attacker. Barnes tucked his arms in, pulling his center of gravity to the side, parallel to the floor and pushing his left foot around in a high circle as he spun. The toe of his boot caught the man’s chin and laid him out flat. Barnes stretched out his metal hand to support his weight as he fell, then pushed off again in a move Natalia had taught him. The artificial joint of his elbow reacted far better than any natural body part, absorbing the shock and giving him the leverage to spring back up onto his feet again. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>One was standing, awkwardly holding his tranq gun in his off hand and staying low as he tried to make his way out the back door with a broken wrist. Sirens were loud outside. Number three scrambled for his gun again amid the splinters of a table, and Barnes brought his own knife to shoulder height, then sank down rapidly on one knee, driving four inches of steel through flesh, muscle, and bone and into the carpet, padding, plywood and all the way through to the dead space under the floor. Three screamed, clawing at his pinned hand with his right but unable to get enough leverage to pull the blade out. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes spun again, drawing one of his throwing knives and targeting the first enemy.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He found him laid out on his side on the carpet between the planter bed and the kitchen. There was a fork in his ankle and a red welt rising across his face. One closed eye was dribbling thick, grayish blood. Evelyn knelt on the floor next to him, checking his pulse, while Jane Foster held back a foul-mouthed Darcy. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“-a spoon!” The pregnant woman was spitting fire, dark curls falling out of her ponytail. “I’m gonna dig out the other eye – that shithead thinks he can-”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Shut up, Darcy,” Foster said through clenched teeth, glancing at Barnes. Her eyes were black, but she seemed focused. “Reporters will be here any minute. You want them to find out this way?”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Darcy did, finally, calm down enough to sit and Barnes was able to do a quick assessment. She had darkening red marks on her forearm where someone had grabbed her. There was blood spray on her brown polka-dot maternity dress, but he didn’t think it was hers. He tapped on his transmitter.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Report,” he barked out, waiting for his team to respond. He ached to check Evelyn, but forced himself to run his hands along Darcy’s limbs first, looking into her eyes to make certain she hadn’t taken any blows to the head. She was not amused by his concern. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Secure,” the driver reported in his ear. “Position One is down, but stable. Police are forty seconds out. Ambulance two minutes. Tower has been apprised.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Perhaps <em>I</em> could do the doctoring,” Evelyn murmured. She shuffled over beside him and took Darcy’s wrist, feeling for her pulse. “You can do the things you are actually qualified for.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“I do have field training.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“When was that again? Before or after we stopped prescribing cocaine for colic?” She snorted under her breath. “<em>Sanguijuelas</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Secure,” Ourada panted into the comm. He could hear the pain in her voice. “Two hostiles down. One made it past me into the dining area. I have a GSW to the shoulder and could use assistance.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes was glad Evelyn couldn’t hear that. She would want to immediately go to Ourada, but he needed the three civilians to stick together where he could guard them all until backup arrived.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Soldier,” Tony Stark’s voice cut into his communications channel. “Captain and Falcon ETA two and – nope, he’s picking up speed. You’ve got sixty seconds to make sure Miss Liberty is presentable. Sitrep?”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes quickly relayed the number of hostiles and their condition, and barely had time to request medical – no deaths, before Steve charged in the door. He was in full uniform – he and Sam had been at an event with some <em>Make-A-Wish</em> kids. One enemy made a flopping, struggling motion as Steve raced by. Captain America broke a downed man’s jaw against his boot without hesitation and skidded to a stop on his knees. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Darcy, Sweetheart, you okay? You’ve got blood on you. Where-”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“It’s not hers,” Barnes interrupted before Steve could overreact and murder the nearest combatant. He saw Falcon landing outside, and police pulling up to coordinate with him. The off-duty officers inside nodded Barnes’ way as they checked on the three men he had incapacitated. Jane grabbed Darcy’s huge shoulder bag and put it in her lap between her belly and anyone who might see Captain America genuflecting in front of an obviously pregnant woman. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“Captain, if you have this, I’m taking Evelyn back in the kitchen to work on Ourada. GSW.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“What?” Evelyn was standing, grabbing her bag and frowning at him even as he tried to keep himself between her and the forked man on the floor. “Why didn’t you say so immediately?” </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes had to put his weight into the swinging kitchen door. On the other side, on the tile, was a moaning man covered in blisters and smelling of coconut, pumpkin, and charred flesh. Evelyn did not even spare him a glance as Barnes led her around the enemy and to a stainless steel table at the back of the kitchen where Ourada had stationed herself with a line of sight on both doors. A cook – one of the few that he could see emerging from cover inside a cooler – was holding a towel against the woman’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes took over for Ourada and kept watch while Evelyn got to work. He listened over comms while Stark kept tabs on Wilson and the local police. As soon as a replacement driver and car pulled up in the alley, Steve escorted Darcy and Foster through the kitchen and into the vehicle. Press arrived shortly thereafter, and Barnes allowed his glare to keep all but the most intrepid – and probably survival impaired - reporters from trying to ask him questions. No one gave Evelyn a second glace as she walked along side the stretcher that would take Ourada to the Tower. Barnes made sure they were both secure in the back, then invited himself into the front passenger seat where he could keep an eye on Evelyn and his injured employee. The driver opened his mouth to object, but took one look at Barnes’ metal arm, swallowed and drove where he was told to go.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Across the comms, he could hear Stark making suggestions to Wilson.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“If they won’t let us take custody, tell NYPD we’d like to sit in on interrogations. I can have Widow at their precinct within the hour. Friday is running facial recognition. At least two of these guys are known HYDRA. Did you check their teeth? Fucking cyanide. So glad I’m not in the field today. I hate putting my fingers in anyone’s mouth. Not even the suit is enough of a barrier for that. Do you know how many germs are-” Barnes tuned him out. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>HYDRA. They had been after Darcy. After Steve’s kid. HYDRA knew about Steve’s kid. He turned in his seat to look at Evelyn. She was rolling up her sleeves, pulling on gloves and speaking calmly to Ourada. On her right wrist were five red bruises. His heart went cold. Had they tried to take her too? <em>Why not,</em> the logical soldier in him whispered. <em>If you want the baby, then you want someone who can take care of it. Someone who can study it. Someone who can make more.</em> Barnes could guess how Steve felt, right at that moment, knowing that an exquisite, irreplaceable thing had nearly been torn away from him. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes began making plans, considering the security measures in place and everything he had already set in motion to keep Darcy and the baby safe. He made a mental list of items that would need checked, personnel screened, and protocols drilled and put into practice. He reminded himself to sit down with Natalia as soon as she had finished interrogation and find out how quickly they could move on whomever had set the day’s action in motion. How quickly they could move...and eliminate with extreme prejudice.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He ignored the sharp, jerky lurch of his lungs and hid the shake of his flesh hand by drawing and checking his Sig. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Barnes had barely survived seventy years of torture with HYDRA to find Steve, to find a family of friends after everything he had once cared for had died. If HYDRA thought they could lay their filthy hands even one piece of his new life, he would rip their arms out of the sockets.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>* <em>Sanguijuelas - leeches</em></span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Green Jeans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <b>
    <span>September 1, 2017</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“So, was there a course on all of this stuff in medical school? Or is it more of an osmosis thing?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Evie quirked a smile at Jane Foster and slipped on her sunglasses. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Jane flapped a hand in the air. “You, you know, baby stuff. The thing with the sleep sacks. And Darcy said you helped her with a list of registry items. How do you know about all of this?” She looked genuinely interested. Evie had listened to more than one of Darcy’s Jane stories, and had met the woman briefly once before. She supposed that growing up an only child, surrounded by adults and older peers, would make it difficult to get invited to a lot of baby showers.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“I have cousins.” Evie laughed at Jane’s look of skepticism. “A <em>lot</em> of cousins. I made enough money to buy my first car by babysitting. And now the kids I used to have to watch like a hawk so they wouldn’t stuff pennies up their noses are having their own babies. Regardless of how interesting or well-read a person is, once they become a parent, a minimum of fifty percent of their conversation is about human waste, PG entertainment, and the cost of raising a child.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Ew.” Jane scrunched up her nose as they turned the corner. The Indian restaurant Pepper had recommended was in sight. “That would make me feel really old. I mean – not that you’re old! I think we are actually the same age, but...” She sighed, then chuckled. “Sorry. I don’t get out much. Darcy says I need to talk to live people more often.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Don’t we all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Darcy hung up her phone call, apparently Tony was having some sort of crisis, just as their forward security guard opened the door to the restaurant and slipped in side. James slowed Darcy to a barely moving walk, and Evie and Jane followed suit. Once he had the all-clear, Evie assumed, he opened the door for Darcy and allowed the ladies in as a group. Although there was a slight shuffle as they changed tables, everything seemed to go fairly smoothly until their drinks arrived.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“But what is it,” Jane was asking with a repressed laugh. “People say ‘colic’ like we should know what it means, but what is that? And why don’t they give kids something for it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<em>Abuela</em> used whiskey,” Evie told Jane dryly, “but as a doctor I do not recommend that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Excuse-” Darcy started, and it was then that Evie noticed James had stopped her from drinking her water. She set hers down as well. Jane did the same. A clatter from the kitchen made the hairs on the back of Evie’s neck stand up. She could feel tension creeping up her spine, threatening to split her mind.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>James would tell us if there was something to worry about.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“When I move,” he said quietly, “get below the table. Jane, if anyone comes near you, get Darcy out of here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>Like that. <span>Debería haberme quedado en su cama.</span> </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Okay.” Jane’s neck and jaw were flushing darkly. Evie hoped that the Aether would not be necessary. Although she hadn’t seen any ill effects to the baby from Darcy’s first foray into inter-dimensional travel, she would prefer her patient kept her exposure to unknown environments and potential radiation to a minimum.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Her eyes swung to James. The teasing light from the baby store was gone from his face, replaced with a calm, calculating look that she had gotten used to being absent. She was firmly reminded that he would put himself between harm and Darcy. Between harm and any innocent. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Be careful.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Then he was up, gone, fighting a waiter who had a weapon in hand. Evie didn’t have time to watch him. The noise in the kitchen was growing louder. A shot was fired. Darcy gasped. Jane’s eyes went black.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em><span><span><span><span>Monitor Darcy’s pulse, keep her calm and her blood pressure low. Reduce Jane’s exposure to life-threatening situations. </span></span></span></span><span>James se ve ardiente como el infierno.</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="western">The kitchen door swung outward and Evie caught sight of a man in cargo pants and a bulletproof vest, holding a tranquilizer gun. He scanned first to his left, and was panning to the right. He would soon have Darcy in his sights. Evie’s mind fractured.</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>Disable attacker, before he can get close enough to use his superior strength or startle Jane into portaling. A butterknife to the eye with minimal pressure would cause sufficient pain to render him unable to fight, may cause shock.</em>
</p>
<p class="western">Her right hand fell to the flatware on the table; her left loosely clasped Darcy’s wrist. Sound had fallen away, distant and indistinguishable from white noise.</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>Knife requires close combat. You aren’t sufficiently trained. </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em><span>Aguafiestas.</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="western">Another server, a woman with a nose ring and a neck tattoo, was cowering under the condiment station across the aisle. In her hands was a soup tureen. Curls of steam rose lazily into the air as if time had slowed, even stopped. Evie judged the distance between herself and the man in the kitchen doorway – still bringing his gun around at a glacial pace.</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>One hundred sixty beats per minute. High, but not dangerous.</em>
</p>
<p class="western">“Duck,” she ordered the other two women. As if that word had broken a spell, time jump-started. Evie threw herself out of her seat, her bare knees skidding on the layered wool carpets. She scooped the tureen out of the server’s surprised grasp with her right hand and put all of her newly developed upper body strength into flinging it toward the kitchen. The man screamed, high-pitched and blood-curdling as near-boiling liquid sloshed out of the open bowl and onto the skin of his face. He did not have time to do more than raise his hands to the thick liquid scalding his skin and dripping down his neck before the heavy tureen impacted with his skull. It cracked, and he stumbled back a step, against the door. As he fell, Evie began moving back toward the table.</p>
<p class="western">A painful grip on her arm stopped her. Her arm was wrenched painfully and she looked over her shoulder at another armored man.</p>
<p class="western">“Two for one.” He grinned, glancing from to the table. His smile faded into puzzlement and Evie followed his gaze to see only Jane, black-eyed and shadowy-skinned, sitting there. “Fuck!”</p>
<p class="western">He screamed and bent forward, clipping his head on the table and letting go of Evie to snatch Darcy’s hand where it had struck out from below. The tines of a dinner fork were embedded down to the hilt through his pant leg and into skin.</p>
<p class="western">“You bitch! You’ll pay for that,” he growled, yanking hard enough to make Darcy gasp and trying to pull her out. “You can still give birth with a broken hand!”</p>
<p class="western">“No way in fucking hell you-”</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>Now.</em>
</p>
<p class="western">With the smooth motion of someone who had used a blade a million times, Evie grasped her butter knife in her right hand. She thrust her left into their attacker’s hair, ripping some out at the roots as she jerked his head to the side. The rounded edge of her eating utensil entered the orbital socket smoothly between bone and organ. She scraped down and inward along the orbital bone, severing the <em>medial rectus</em> and <em>superior oblique</em>, the made a sharp diagonal motion, crushing the <em>tenon’s capsule</em> more than cutting it.</p>
<p class="western">He made a strangled, broken sound, abruptly let go of Darcy, and fell backward into a shock-induced faint.</p>
<p class="western">“Son of a bitch,” Jane whispered.</p>
<p class="western">Sound came roaring, crashing back on Evie, she could feel a headache forming, but she kept it at bay by focusing on the tasks ahead of her.</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Assess Darcy. Darcy was flailing to crawl back onto the seat and cursing at the man bleeding onto the carpet. Evie managed to briefly get a look at her normal pupils and press her fingers to Darcy’s wrist. Check on Jane. Her skin was still flushed, but the color of her eyes was returning to normal. Triage attackers. She knelt by the man on the floor, feeling for his pulse. He was still alive. James will want to question them. </span>
  <span>
    <em>Espero que el imbécil se niegue a responder.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">As if her thoughts had summoned him, James appeared then. Between him and Jane they got Darcy calmed down enough to sit, and Jane even remember to camouflage her baby bump from any reporters that might show up to the scene of a public shooting. Evie determined that the eyeless man was not going to die in the immediate future and so stood, shooing James’ hands away from Darcy.</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Perhaps <em>I</em> could do the doctoring,” Evelyn murmured. She noting bruising on his jaw and a few tears in his clothes. His jacket was missing and his metal arm exposed. She hoped he didn’t have any other injuries. She knew he would deny it if he did – at least until everyone was safe and she could get him back to his apartment. “You can do the things you are actually qualified for.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He bantered with her. It loosened some of the tension in her chest. If he had the head space for that then he couldn’t have fallen too far into a reticent mind-set. Just when she was beginning to think about what she could do to ease him the rest of the way out of it, Steve arrived and Barnes announced one of their people had been shot. She would need to have words with him about doing triage for her. He shouldn’t. Steve took Darcy and Jane out the back. Sam dealt with the police. James followed her and Ourada into the ambulance when it arrived.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“It looks like a clean shot,” Evie informed the woman as she quickly sanitized and gloved. “I don’t expect any nerve damage, but I won’t know for certain until we get you back to the infirmary.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“No sweat, Doc.” Ourada smiled, sweat beading on her forehead. “I’ve got great benefits.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Evie smiled as well, and then prepped and administered pain meds. Ourada’s body quickly relaxed a fraction. The EMT in the back with her only put up a token protest when Evie began assessing and starting preliminary treatment. The sooner she could spot any potential problems, the less long term challenges Ourada might have. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“James,” she didn’t wait for him to acknowledge her, “call medical and put them on speaker, please.” </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The ride to the Tower was short, made to seem even quicker by the fast-paced conversation with the medical staff. Bridget met them in the parking garage with another nurse and an orderly and they headed up to the infirmary while James stayed behind to make certain the EMT’s were cleared by security before they left. Rowena had surgery ready for them. Evie repaired some vascular damage and then made certain she hadn’t missed any damaged nerves or loose bone fragments before packing and covering the wound.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“...additional units of blood and saline. I’d like her awake with only a local for morning rounds, so I can check on muscular response. Let’s plan on closing a bit then to advance self-repair.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Yes, Dr. Vivas.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>She washed up and changed into a clean pair of scrubs, taking her blood and curry splattered dress with her in a plastic sack. They only had two other patients, an appendectomy for one of the security staff and a mission support person on day two of her long recovery in traction. Evie looked over their charts and made certain to check in with the nursing station before heading to the elevator. She made it as far as Barnes’ front door before she thought to consider than he might not be home. Or that he might not want company.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Friday,” she called out, “would you please check if Sergeant Barnes-”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The door opened abruptly, and he was standing there, hair wet and dripping onto his bare chest. Evie could feel her eyes widening as she realized the he wore only a low-slung towel. Her mouth opened, a pithy question about how he usually answered the door on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it when he grabbed a fistful of her scrubs – just below her breasts, and roughly tugged her inside. She crashed into him and then into the entryway wall as he crowded her back. His mouth landed on hers.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gone were the smooth, playful kisses and slow teases. James <em>ravished</em> her. His left hand gripped the braid at the base of her skull, forcing her head up. His right smoothed down her chest to tense on her hip, tilting her pelvis into hard, firm contact with his. His tongue was everywhere. Her teeth, her lips, testing her inner cheeks and trailing across her lip, down to her jaw.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“What?” She didn’t know what was happening, but she liked it. After so many weeks of testing the waters, Evie could admit she was more than ready to take things further. His skin was wet and warm and taut over hard muscles. She dug her fingers in, trying to find a grip that would let her catch up to him – but he was already so far ahead, leading and demanding she follow. Her breasts felt heavy and tight, she regretted not putting her bra and underwear back on after she changed her scrubs. Then was supremely thankful she hadn’t when James swept his hot, flesh hand from hip to ass and squeezed. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>He groaned against the hinge of her jaw. “</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <em>Ty ubivayesh' menya. </em>
  <span>Doll, you forgot to put somethin’ on.</span>
  <em>”</em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>“</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Mm.” She sucked in a deep breath and hitched one knee up over his hip. His towel fell loose, held in place only by their hips fused together. “You too, </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <em>cariño.” </em>
  <span>His head dropped forward to rest against her neck, but his hand kept moving, kneading and pressing her tightly to him. “Guess you don’t mind anyone in the hall being able to see your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">He growled, the vibration traveling from his mouth to her throat straight to her clit. He thrust against her, pinning her to the wall high enough that her tennis shoe didn’t quite touch the floor. He freed his metal hand and with one swift motion slammed his front door closed.</p>
<p class="western">“I mind them seeing yours.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>*<span><em>Debería haberme quedado en su cama.</em></span><em> - I should have stayed in his bed.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span><span>James se ve ardiente como el infierno.</span> - James looks hot as hell.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span><span>Aguafiestas.</span> - Spoilsport.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Espero que el imbécil se niegue a responder.</em>
    </span>
    <em> - </em>
    <em>I hope the asshole refuses to answer.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <em>Ty ubivayesh' menya. - </em>
    <em>You’re killing me.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <em>cariño - </em>
    <em>darling</em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Champagne, Cocaine, Gasoline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Who doesn't enjoy a good debriefing?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <b>
    <span>September 1, 2017</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Security checks, debriefings, and paperwork had all taken too long. He had ordered delivery and then stripped as soon as he was in his apartment, determined to shower and meet her at her place with a hot meal. He had promised himself he would feed her before he laid her out and assured himself that she hadn’t been hurt. He just needed to check, to see that she was uninjured. Unafraid. He wanted to pull her close and feel the long, lean lines of her body pressed warmly against his.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barnes leaned against the wall of his shower, eyes closed and letting the water rinse soap from his hair. Once he had thought of it, he hadn’t been able to get that image out of his head. Evelyn stretched out under him, his hands sliding across her skin. Her mouth open and spilling out everything he wanted to hear. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>James.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <em>Cariño.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <em>Closer.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <em>More.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <em>Te am-</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>His hand had wrapped around his cock without permission from his brain at the same moment that Friday quietly pinged. A message glowed on the touch screen portion of his shower door.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>Notification as requested. Dr. Vivas has left medical.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span><em>Christ.</em> He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. Not yet. The moral quandary hadn’t stopped him before. It didn’t stop him from squeezing and stroking himself either. Once. Twice. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Fuck. Evelyn.” His whisper was nearly drowned out by the noise of water on tile. He just needed to finish, to cool his blood and get himself under control before he was alone with her again. He just needed to make certain that the first time he was inside her wouldn’t be up against her front door. The way she had handled the situation at the restaurant – her ability, her intelligence, her skill. Barnes hadn’t known that would do it for him, but it did. That and the way the dusty pink of her dress had skimmed over her ass. The way the glittering beads on her sandals contrasted with the long expanse of golden legs. He always a purse of lips and one flirty word away from an erection when she was around, but seeing her, commanding and competent, was too much on top of her close encounter with danger.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>His adrenaline was already high from the attack, and then, in the garage, she had brushed by him with a caress to his arm and a look that meant she intended to see him later. Barnes knew that look. Knew it because he saw it often and because she always seemed to want to see him. Gorgeous, brilliant, assertive Evelyn wanted James Bucky Barnes. The Soldier. He stroked himself again, letting his fist close over the aching head of his cock. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span><em>Ping</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>Proximity notification. Dr. Vivas is approaching your location.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>So he wanted to know when she was near. So he had directed Friday to alert him. So what?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>So you are a creepy, possessive, obsessed mother fucker. That’s what.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barnes bit off any reply – not that he had a good retort for himself. He shut of the water as he stepped out of the shower. He didn’t bother to dry, just twitched a towel around his waist and stalked to the door. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. Not unless Evelyn said no. Christ, he hoped she didn’t say no. He’d just show her, show her everything he could do to make her feel perfect. Amazing. He didn’t remember a lot about treating a woman right, but he’d do whatever she wanted. He’d make her cum until she blacked out if that is what it would take to convince her to be half as attached to him as he was to her. His dick twitched against soft cotton and he snarled as he reached for the door. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barnes would beg for the privilege if that is what it took.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>She was standing there. In ridiculous red scrubs and the tennis shoes she usually kept in her bag. He reached for her, pressing his mouth to hers before she could say anything. Her lips were soft. Soft and pliant and open for him. She tasted warm and sweet and sinful – like he was damning his own soul by sampling something too fine not to be forbidden to him. He didn’t care. He licked at the sharp line of her jaw.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“What?” Her fingers dug into his neck and right bicep. Blunt nails scraped at his skin and set off a shiver under his flesh. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He needed more of her. He squeezed her ass – thinking about all the things he would like to do to it. <em>K</em><em>iss, bite, grab hold while she’s bent over and -</em> His metal hand relayed information about texture and thickness of the material of her borrowed scrubs. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. She was killing him, and he told her so. With her thigh hooked over his hip and his cock nestled against her, Barnes slammed the door to his apartment. Maybe he would end up taking her standing up, but at least no one else would watch.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“I mind them seeing yours.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“How chivalrous,” Evelyn murmured. She tipped her head and he let her, not loosening his grip on her braid but moving with her. Her lips brushed his throat. Followed by her tongue. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>God, she smelled good. Like antiseptic and generic laundry soap and sterile plastic and under all of that buttery chocolate. Barnes pressed his face to her hair and breathed deeply of the spicy sweetness of her shampoo. He needed her. Desperately. He felt a little crazed and a lot out of control. He sucked in another breath, trying to calm himself but all that did was flood his lungs with more of Evelyn.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Let go,” she instructed in her honey-voice.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Mm.” It took a moment for the fog of lust to clear so he could understand her. “Ug, I, sorry.” He wasn’t. Not even a little. An experimental twitch also proved he couldn’t move away with her leg locked around his waist – which was possibly the best sort of restraint he could never have imagined. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“My hair, <em>cariño.”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Oh, fuck. Sorry.” He withdrew his fingers immediately, cursing himself for hurting her and for still wanting to fuck her standing up even after he had hurt her. His palms both smacked flat against the wall on either side of her head – the most he could manage to move away from her. He felt like a piece of shit – and simultaneously like the luckiest man on this planet or any other as her thigh flexed, pressing him more firmly against her.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Don’t apologize, James.” She pressed her lips against his collarbone and her hands drifted down his chest, brushing over nipples he had never known were sensitive until her and across his stomach. And open mouthed kiss landed at the hollow of his throat. “I liked it. Very much.” A quick, tantalizing lick had him shuddering. “But I have been wanting to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>In a single fluid motion she slid down his body, taking his towel with her. Her deft fingers wrapped around his shaft. His eyes flew open in shock, looking down just in time to watch her breathe across the head of his cock. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Fuck,” he whispered. Nothing else came to mind. His brain went completely blank and silent.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“All in good time, James. All in good time.” Then she took him in her mouth.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. And Most Things In Between</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <b>
    <span>September 1, 2017</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>If it had ever occurred to her, anytime in the past eight months, exactly how grateful James Buchanan Barnes would be for what Evie now had a strong suspicion was his first experience in receiving oral sex, she would have asked him to dinner ages ago. Months. Eight months ago, to be precise. She probably could have saved herself the nightmarish experience with HYDRA – because she would have been in James’ bed. As often as she could have managed. Based on the enthusiasm with which he was using his mouth and fingers to propel her toward a second orgasm, he would have been happy to have her. </span>
</p>
<p class="western"><span><span><span>“<span><span>Yes, there. Yes! There!” His hair was silky under her fingers and his pillow soft where she had clutched it in her other fist. His tongue, though. </span></span></span></span></span><span><span><em><span><span>“Plegue a dios! </span></span></em></span></span><span><em>Usa tus dedos. Si. No.</em></span> <span><em>Jodida burla del coño, solo-”</em></span> <span>James laved against her clit and Evie nearly swallowed her tongue. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>She had a brief, disconnected moment of clarity where she congratulated herself on taking the time the day before for aggressive grooming. She hadn’t known then it would be appreciated so energetically.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Evelyn.” He blew a cooling breath over her swollen flesh and she gasped, her eyes flying open.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“What! Christ, finish already!” Sweat was beading up on her skin. Her muscles trembled with tension. From between her legs pale blue eyes stared at her. His hair was mostly dry, silky and tousled and dangerously close to sticking in the wet mess of his cheeks, nose and mouth. His tongue licked out across his lips as if he was savoring her taste. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“Evelyn.” He didn’t smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>A second, smooth metal finger joined the first, finally stretching, filling, reaching for that spot which she needed- </span>
</p>
<p class="western"><span><span><span>“</span></span></span><span><span><span><span><span>Eyes open, </span></span></span></span></span><em>solnyshko</em>.” He left a trail of light kisses from her clit down one outer labia and up the other. He pulled his fingers out, making her wail, and traced wetly around her opening. “<em>U menya mnogo vremeni, chtoby naverstat' upushchennoye.</em> Have mercy. Let me enjoy myself.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>*Plegue a dios – please god!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span><span>Usa tus dedos. Si! No!</span> - Use your fingers. Yes! No!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span><span>Jodida burla del coño, solo</span> – Fucking pussy tease, just</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>U menya mnogo vremeni, chtoby naverstat' upushchennoye. - I have a lot to make up for.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the delay everyone - you've all been so patient and kind with your comments! Between the finishing touches for my second book and the craziness of my IRL job and Zoom school during this pandemic, time has been getting away from me. I promise I will try to do better.</p>
<p>Side note: how do you feel about Lovecraftian AU? Asking for a friend.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Sick for Days In So Many Ways</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <b> September 1, 2017 </b>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Barnes turned and pressed his lips to her calf, tasting the faint salt of her skin - the hours-old trace of her lotion. He slowed the movement of his hips, trying to catch his breath. It wasn’t from exertion. It wasn’t the physical activity but the emotional avalanche that he was struggling to stay ahead of. Above. Running on a shifting, sliding surface that would bury him if he wasn’t fast enough, careful enough. The longer he was with her the more he lost himself. Lost his control.</p><p class="western">Evelyn’s inner muscles clenched around him and she dug her left heel into the small of his back, trying to pull him closer again. Harder. He retaliated by nipping at the firm muscle of her leg, then licking across the faint red mark and up to her delicate ankle bone.</p><p class="western">“Auh,” she gasped. “<em> Más </em> <em> , </em> <em> cariño </em>.”</p><p class="western"><em>More, darling</em>, his brain slowly translated while she continued to moan and toss her head. Barnes gripped her calf with his flesh hand, reminding himself to be careful. Gentle. Not too tight. He blew out a thready breath and flexed his fingers even as he stared down at Evelyn. She was gorgeous. Golden skin glowing with a light layer of sweat and flushed from desire. One hand was clenched around the creamy white of his sheets, twisting the fabric into a starburst of wrinkles. The other clasped his metal wrist. Her slender, skilled fingers stroking and squeezing a weapon that could easily crush her soft heart. She pulled at him as if she might have the strength to make him move.</p><p class="western">She didn’t need strength. Only the slow sweep of thick lashes over darkened eyes and a wet, raspberry lip.</p><p class="western">“<em>Deja de joder</em>,” she whispered, then arched her back. The rich pink of her nipples thrust into the air and the curve of her body drew him in more inevitably than any command or force. “James. <em>James</em>!” Her teeth clacked together and her gaze flashed with impatience. “Enough edging, God. Please just <em>terminemos</em>...”</p><p class="western">She continued to talk, a babbling, torrential mess of English and Spanish, blasphemy and prayer, pleas and demands. Words and phrases seeped through understanding in a strange, detached way as his metal hand assessed her temperature. <em>Thirty-seven point three degrees. Mild dehydration probable.</em> <em>Zashchita pecy- </em>He could hear the blood pumping in her veins. The air rushing in her lungs. The slide of her thick braid across expensive sheets. The smoked honey of her voice, a catch there from more talking than he had ever heard out of her mouth at one time. From gasping out her pleasure repeatedly.</p><p class="western">She was so <em>open</em> . Wild with an abandonment and a loss of control that made her vulnerable and soft and so preciously <em>trusting</em> that he wanted to kiss and cry and fuck and hold her close and never let her go.</p><p class="western">It shook him to his core.</p><p class="western">They could have taken her again. Held her. Tortured her. Tried to mold her beautiful mind and warp her skills to make more of him. To force her into being complicit in enslaving, using him once more. And more. And more.</p><p class="western">She had saved herself. Been willing to sacrifice herself to save others. Succeeded in protecting the most precious life. Turned what had been done to her against the enemy.</p><p class="western">She had watched him kill and without hesitation had let his blood soaked hands touch her. She had seen him using those same hands to break bones, and still she displayed herself, vulnerable, under him, begging for his skin on hers.</p><p class="western">He loved her.</p><p class="western">“...<em>tan cerca!</em>” She was nearly growling at him, putting enough pressure against his spine that she would have left a foot-shaped bruise on a normal man. Deep inside she clenched around his cock again. Barnes had to bite his cheek to keep from spilling out his newest secret. <em>Love. Fuck. Love. Holy hell.</em></p><p class="western">The avalanche had pulled him under. He had been buried alive – but he found himself not cold and alone and suffocating in the dark. Instead he was surrounded by heat and golden light and a fierce desire that could only be matched, soothed, and inflamed by the equally fierce woman laid out before him.</p><p class="western">“...teasing! Fucking, <em>los </em><em>hijo de pu-”</em></p><p class="western">“Evelyn.” Barnes spoke low, his voice deeper than usual with his own craving for her and the epiphany of emotion threatening to explode out of his chest. “Look at me.” Pupils blown wide and surrounded by only a thin golden ring focused on his face and he had to swallow at the passion evident there. “I have a name. If you want something from me - use it.”</p><p class="western">He yanked her up by her calf, making room for his thighs under her ass, and slid his metal hand over her hip, around her waist, and up to press between her shoulder blades and lever her up against his chest. It wasn’t what he had intended by requiring her to stretch deeply after every workout, but the easy press of her breasts against him while her foot was tucked behind his head was a gratifying bonus.</p><p class="western">“James.” She moaned his name.</p><p class="western">Barnes responded by taking her mouth. He pressed a kiss to her full lower lip and then licked inside as he canted his hips. His range of movement was small, but she was so close to him that her clit ground against his pelvis with each small rotation. The new position sank him even deeper. He lost control then, his metal hand tangling in her braid as he clasped her shoulder and pulled her down with every tiny thrust up. A string of nonsense fell from her mouth, but Barnes was too far gone to think about translation. Only the tension in his spine, the ache in his cock, the tight, wet heat of her body, the battle of tongues and mouths and the heady scent of cinnamon, buttery-chocolate, and musky salt mattered.</p><p class="western">Her hand forced its way between them and he was thankful she could help finish herself because he was already there, holding her to him, releasing inside her and probably bruising her with the force of his grip. It didn’t matter in that moment because through the narrow slit that he managed to keep his eyes open he watched her throw back her head, neck bared and mouth open on a scream of his name.</p><p class="western">Barnes lost time.</p><p class="western">His entire body was lax, barely holding himself and Evelyn upright. Every nerve ending was vibrating with a pleasant harmonic cord. Each muscle fiber was slack and tranquil and perfectly prepared to slide over onto the bed and subside into sleep. Even his brain, the stupid, cottage-cheese, useless organ that never let him remember right but never let him forget - what he was or what he had been and each loss and vile act and threat and fear – was a satisfied soup of humming neurons. He was completely amiable to ignoring everything but the heat around his softening cock and the exotic stick of silky skin against him and the mingle of Evelyn’s gradually slowing breath with his own.</p><p class="western">“Mmm.” She shifted, and he became aware that at some point he must have let her foot down. Evelyn stretched her back and tensed her muscles, tightening her long legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He let out a sharp breath as her movement flexed in other places, stirring the lazy thought that instead of a nap he could tip her back onto the bed and taste her again. He was sure she tasted even better than she smelled. Her stomach rumbled.</p><p class="western">“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling back from him.</p><p class="western">A faint blush might have colored her cheeks, but it was difficult to tell under the obvious glow of orgasm. Barnes felt his chest swell with pride, satisfaction, and desire to do it all over again. He smiled, admiring the swollen skin of her mouth and the mess they had made of her usually neat braid. Early evening sunshine set the bedroom alight and made the whiskey of her hair glow. It also highlighted the still too-prominent hollows of her collarbones and the sharp angle of her jaw.</p><p class="western">“I could eat, too,” he said, grinning when she tossed back her head and laughed. <em> Food first </em> , he sternly told his dick . <em> Take care of her needs, then see if she’ll let you lick her sweet little clit </em> <em> again </em> <em> . </em> He carefully lifted her off of him, wincing at the cooler air against his sensitive skin and watching to make certain she was only a bit stiff – not injured in any way. He grabbed a pair of sweat pants from his closet and had to clench his hands as she brushed by him on her way into the bathroom. He itched to pull her into a kiss and bury his face in her hair and tell her he never wanted her to leave.</p><p class="western">Instead he shut the door behind him and yanked on his pants before heading into the kitchen. His refrigerator was significantly different than it had been only a month before. A fresh chicken lay in a covered bowl on the bottom shelf, waiting for some treatment or marinade or other. Fruits and vegetables filled the drawers – many of them he couldn’t quite remember the name of, assuming he had ever known. There were two sad little containers of leftovers, barely enough for a snack. Butcher paper wrapped meats, milk, two kinds of cream, sticks of rich butter, cheeses, juice, a jar of quick pickles Evelyn had helped him make the day before. It was full.</p><p class="western">Barnes forcefully shut down the metaphors that were making his heart thump and his skin prickle in a not-unpleasant way.</p><p class="western">“What are you thinking about?”</p><p class="western">He did not jump at her sudden arrival or the scrape of a bar stool as she sat at the island. Deliberately, he pulled out a bunch of green onions and the last piece of ginger root and turned to face her.</p><p class="western">“I was thinking about that Vietnamese soup you made the other day,” he lied smoothly. “We’re-” his tongue didn’t stumble over the plural even while his brain was grappling with it, “-out of the special noodles, but didn’t you say you had a recipe with zucchini?”</p><p class="western">Her fingers paused in the middle of re-braiding her hair. The position had her arms up, elbows out and her breasts thrust forward against the soft, worn fabric of one of his black t-shirts. His mouth went dry. She had not put on a bra. He could hear the slide of her bare legs against each other and wondered if she had put on underwear. Evelyn was too tall for his shirt to cover much of anything below the hips.</p><p class="western">“Pho, you mean. We <em> can </em>...” she said slowly, “...but even if I go get my Instant Pot from my place-”</p><p class="western">He was aggressively against her leaving his apartment.</p><p class="western">“-it still will take at least two hours.”</p><p class="western">“Oh.” Barnes licked his lips and looked down at the ingredients in his hands. He could wait a few hours to eat. He had gone far longer and the hunger pinching at his stomach was easily ignored. Evelyn, however, had missed lunch because of the attack. She couldn’t afford to skip meals. He glanced at the clock. If they started now, they could eat around eight or nine. He’d have time to do his first perimeter check afterwards and probably still convince Evelyn to take a shower with him before she should try to sleep.</p><p class="western">And he could use the errand to her kitchen to get his emotions under control.</p><p class="western">Decisively, he set down the onion and root and instead got out a couple of wedges of cheese, the pickles, and a dried salami that Evelyn had offhandedly stated she liked with bread. He didn’t have any fresh loaves, so instead he dug out a box of crispy sesame crackers and quickly laid everything out on a cutting board before sliding it across the counter to Evelyn. He filled a glass of water for her as well.</p><p class="western">Her hair was once more smoothed into a loose braid. A smirk ticked up one corner of her mouth and her eyebrows rose.</p><p class="western">“Where did you learn to make charcuterie?”</p><p class="western">“It’s just a snack. Nothin’ fancy.” He slipped around the island. Dark cotton pooled on her lap, barely concealing the juncture of her thighs. With his left hand he fished an acidic-smelling pepper strip from the pickle jar and held it to her mouth. She leaned forward to take it, her lips brushing against smooth metal, and he used the excuse of keeping her steady to wrap his flesh hand across her hip. Tellingly, there was no strap or band under his grip.</p><p class="western">
  <em> No underpants. Holy Mary, Mother of God. </em>
</p><p class="western">Barnes needed to get out of there before he said something stupid. Or tossed her on the counter and begged her to let him watch her scream his name every day.</p><p class="western">“James,” she glanced over her shoulder at him. He shuddered. He wanted to kiss that groove at the side of her mouth. “There are enough calories here for a healthy eighteen year old.”</p><p class="western">“I better hurry with your pressure cooker, then,” he murmured, giving in and tasting the smile line, which inevitably lead to her mouth. And that full, raspberry lip. And a quick lick against her teeth. She tasted like heat and vinegar and everything he hadn’t known he had always wanted. “You’ll need that and the soup to have enough energy for tonight.”</p><p class="western">“Arrogance is not attractive, James,” she said dryly as he stepped away, finding his running shoes where he had discarded them earlier. He grabbed a sweatshirt from the hook by the door to cover his bare chest.</p><p class="western">“It isn’t arrogance if it’s a fact,” he replied, tugging on his clothes and suppressing the creeping doubt that it might not be fact.</p><p class="western">“Do you have any research to back that up?”</p><p class="western">“I’ll let you know later.” Barnes winked at her, savoring the way her white teeth bit into her lower lip and the insistent press of her nipples against the shirt she had borrowed. He managed to escape into the hallway before the sight of Evelyn, half naked and well-fucked, convinced him to turn around and tell her that she was the scariest goddamn thing he had ever seen.</p><p class="western">Because he was certain he belonged to her now. And he was pretty sure he didn’t mind.</p><p class="western">“Sergeant Barnes,” Friday interrupted his thoughts as the stairway door closed behind him. “Your dinner order is waiting at the front desk. Would you like me to have it brought up to your apartment?”</p><p class="western"><em> Fuck </em> . He had ordered food. <em> Fuck </em>. Evelyn was going to know he had run away on the excuse of making dinner.</p><p class="western">“Is Wilson in the Tower?”</p><p class="western">“Yes, Sergeant. He arrived twenty-one minutes ago.”</p><p class="western">“Send it to him. Tell him it’s from Natasha.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"><em>* </em> <em>Deja de joder – </em> <em>Stop fucking around.</em></p><p class="western"><em>Terminemos – </em> <em>Let us finish.</em></p><p class="western"><em>Zashchita pecycp – </em> <em>Protect resource.</em></p><p class="western"><em>tan cerca! - </em> <em>so close!</em></p><p class="western"><em> los </em> <em> hijo de puta </em> <em> - </em> <em> son of a bitch </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It had to be done.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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